U𒊹bi𒊹ici𒊹n 𒊹io𒊹nclo𒊹u𒊹e | 7:39 PM | 𒊹5,535th Day

Obviously, with the only building a devastated ruin, there were no logic engines left in the hidden bioenclosure with a working maze reader. Off the top of my head, I remembered - discounting the research tower and underground - the one in the recreation room in the abbey, the one underneath the orrery in the main hall, the one in the security center, and finally the ones in some of the council member's bedrooms and Samium's intensive care room. I vaguely recalled the mention of soundproofed recreation rooms on the 3rd floor during the tour, and those would presumably have them too, but the time for exploration was finished.

The closest would be the one under the orrery. So that would be my destination. If there were any survivors left to try to stop me - Balthazar, whoever had been controlling Linos, whoever had really killed Fang if Theo was telling the truth - then I didn't give a fuck any more. They could just go ahead and try.

I left Ran and Theo behind, and advanced back along the path towards the exit, picking up Ezekiel's scepter for the additional eris along the way. I passed by the decimated remains of Aruru which I'd missed earlier on account of the position I'd woke up in - its head had been smashed open against the ground, the runework lining the interior having suffered critical damage - and stepped back through the tunnel and into the water, returning to the inner sanctum bioenclosure. Then I headed towards the entrance by the statue of Phui, since the eastern one was presumably still blocked off.

I noticed that all the life support had returned - as one would expect, since the Order's farce was supposed to be over by this point. The air was warmer, fresher, and circulating once more, with the quiet hum of the system's operations having resumed.

Other than that, though, there was nothing but the sound of my own footsteps against the grass.

"...hey, Utsu," I said to myself. "We're almost done now, huh...? Just a few more minutes... And then we'll have the answer. I'll be-- I'll finally be able to save you.

Obviously, there was no response.

"Your body is a little messed up right now," I continued, chuckling deliriously, "but I'll fix it soon. I haven't changed anything. Haven't done anything indulgent." I thought about Neferuaten suddenly, glancing up at the bell tower and feeling a spike of grief and guilt. "...well, nothing anyone will ever know about now, at least. Nothing that will cause you any trouble."

"I've, uh, had some problems... But I've done my best to keep your life in good shape. I haven't done anything to upset your parents, or fallen out with any of your friends... A-And my academic reputation is spotless." I exhaled sharply. Maybe it was because of the mental effort I was expending keeping the Flesh-Animating Arcana in place, or maybe my body had just reached its limit after everything that had happened without any proper sleep. "But, uh, it has been a long time... So it might be hard for you to adjust. You'll probably have to go back to school, and everyone will probably be really confused." I laughed stiffly. "I-I'm sorry about that. I'll leave some notes for you, though. So you'll have some idea of what to do."

I ascended the stone steps towards the statue, my sandals clacking against the stone. I saw Theo, Bardiya and Neferuaten standing here as they had on the first day in my mind's eye, like ghosts. I pushed the image away, determined to think about nothing but my objective.

"I've t-taken so much from you," I muttered increasingly quietly as I pushed open the door, "and I can never make that okay. Years of what's supposed to be the prime of your youth. Countless days that you... That you could have been smiling." I trudged into the main hall. "So it's fine if you hate me. It's fine if you think I'm a monster. I wanted to give you the choice, but you can tell everyone the truth if you want... Scour out all the ways I've messed with your life until there's n-nothing left."

I shook my head sharply. "...maybe even saying that is conceited... Like something this insane is something you could ever just get over. Maybe it'll haunt you for the rest of your life... Maybe you'll never trust anyone again." My footsteps echoed off the tall stone walls. "But if there's even a chance you could be happy... I-If there's even a chance, I... I..."

Who was I trying to fool, really?

I'd already concluded hours ago that there was almost no chance that the echo labyrinth I was now clinging to like driftwood in the open ocean would contain an answer to my problem. There was absolutely nothing to give any sort of impression to the contrary. The section I'd managed to watch earlier had made it seem that way. The way I'd apparently behaved during the gap in my memory and my absence of any physical evidence to the contrary made it seem that way. All the snippets of research I'd cobbled together over the past 12 years made it seem that way.

What was overwhelmingly likely was that my quest had been in vain. That the words leaving my mouth right now were nothing but a meaningless fantasy, because the real Utsushikome would never even have the chance to wrestle with the consequences of my choices one way or the other, and that none of my actions since what I'd initially done had even really mattered. The ship had sunk with the first volley. There was nothing more to it.

I knew that, of course. But still, I incessantly lied to myself, just as I had for my entire life, back to when I was a child. Optimism, based on absolutely nothing at all.

I was such a fool.

I passed through the antechamber that connected the old building with the new and returned to the main hall, now illuminated by the chandelier as it'd been since this nightmare had begun. I thought about how lively it had been just a few hours ago, with almost all my classmates still alive. I saw Kamrusepa and Ran in their spots, the latter somehow managing to be deep in her book despite the catastrophe going on around her. A sight I'd never see again.

I couldn't allow myself to think about it. I knelt down and opened the hatch on the logic bridge; this one was bigger than the one in Samium's room, so it had space for multiple echo labyrinths. It would over-complicate the process if I removed the one with its general memory, so I pulled out the whole rack and inspected the labels, unhooking and slotting the one designated as containing the mix of contemporary dramas we'd been watching earlier. Then, finally, I withdrew the one in my bag and delicately lowered it onto the needled surface, slotting it into place.

Please don't be broken in a way I didn't notice. Anue, please don't be fucking broken.

It wasn't broken. I heard the gears of the logic engine whir and the water bubble as it integrated the new information into its operational vibrations. I closed the hatch and pressed my hand against the false iron, standing back up.

For some reason, even though I was exhausted, I didn't want to sit down. So, facing the logic engine and the orrery towering above it, I navigated through the interface to the system's secondary memory, then back to the surveillance recording section. I found the record I'd been viewing, and considered whether I ought to start from the beginning again. Maybe I'd notice something in Samium's answers that had gone over my head the first time - some reservation or detail that had otherwise gone unspoken and could betray information he might keep from me. Or perhaps even hints in my own mannerisms as to my amnesia. I was generally good at multitasking (it was a must to even become an arcanist in the first place) but I'd been incredibly distracted in that room, so it wasn't out of the question I'd missed something.

But I realized, after a moment, that the real reason this idea came to mind was just that it would prolong learning the truth for a little longer. Even in my current state, where it felt like I'd almost completely disassociated from reality, I was still terrified of seeing the truth. Of letting possibility collapse into grim certainty.

But there was no point in prolonging this. I navigated to a little before where I'd left off, and began to view the recording.

𒊹

24 HOURS EARLIER

"So." Samium said, after I'd fallen silent for some time. "Do you feel ready to talk about what you came here to discuss?" His tone was patient. "I don't want to rush you, but..."

I sat there, in that quiet room, looking down at my palms. Though I could hear the distant sound of people chatting through the window about dinner and similar banal matters - Neferuaten, Kamrusepa, Seth, probably some of the others who were just quieter - it felt like they existed in an altogether different reality. The world had gone still.

Nothing about the situation - the domestic quality of the chamber, the casual and awkward conversation we'd been having, Samium's attitude to our meeting in general - felt climactic, and yet, it was a climax. Here I stood, at last, at the very end of the road. Nothing stood between me and the answer save for my own reservations.

I thought about Ran, and saw her face in my mind's eye, wishing she'd come. Then I took a deep breath, and mustered all the courage I had left.

"I, uh," I managed very quietly. "I-I wanted to start by... Saying I'm sorry. For what I made you do."

"I'm sorry, did you say something...?" Samium asked, leaning his head up a little bit with a curious expression."

I hesitated, but tried again, this time louder and with more conviction. "I wanted to, um... To start with, I wanted to apologize to you. For what happened."

I say 'more conviction' but that still amounts to very little. My words trailed off towards the end, growing small and weak.

"Oh." He exhaled sharply, then leaned back down. "I see."

"I didn't-- I mean..." I stammered, trying to find the words. "I didn't..."

What words could you possibly find? I asked myself. Even if he'd wanted it too to some degree or another, you blackmailed him into helping you kill an innocent person. The person whose face you're now wearing as you talk to him. What could you possibly say to explain your own feelings? To justify the fact you're even sitting here?

And more than that, look at him. He's being even gentler with you than when you first woke up in this body. He probably doesn't even care that much, since from his perspective, it all went as well as it could. He's not going to resent you for failing to save a man who would have been brain dead within a couple of months regardless.

I cursed to myself under my breath, unable to even meet his eyes.

Samium took a while to reply, but when he finally did, the word he uttered was a soft "no," as he shook his head as best he could with all the tubes and rune-covered collars practically strangling him. "It's alright. I... appreciate the sentiment, but there's no need for that." He took a breath, his gaze wandering. "It only happened because of my own foolishness, and you were very young, and-- More besides, it was not you."

You see?

In truth, I'd been afraid his attitude would be something along these lines. I'd known Samium was an assimilation failure, and even if I'd avoided looking at it directly (since, for obvious, I wouldn't have exactly fit in) I'd inferred that there was something of a hidden culture among them, with its own ingrained tropes and coping mechanisms.

There were cases where assimilation failure was utterly absolute, where not even the memories of the body's original identity remained... But that was rarer than lightning striking twice. If a situation like mine where the foreign identity was dominant would under normal circumstances be - as Cheng Gue had suggested - a tiny fraction of a tiny fraction, then such situations were infinitesimally unlikely to another degree still.

Ergo, most assimilation failures were probably torn between their multiple identities to some degree or another. Many probably reconciled that dissonance by considering themselves altogether different people from both; a newborn, so to speak, created following Induction. And for someone for whom the whole situation was a tragedy, where their original self would have outright been told not to think of the process as murdering another person's mind, that made sense.

That had probably been why he'd treated me so differently before and after the Induction. To him, he'd already killed the 'me' that had sinned on some operating table when he bisected the brain to access my pneumaic nexus, so the 'me' he was talking to when I'd woken up at the clinic had been a blameless innocent.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

But of course, for me, it was different. Even if I'd pleaded to Samium at the start to leave Utsushikome's thoughts and feelings intact, I'd also asked him to make sure I was still, deep down, myself. And he'd apparently followed that instruction to the letter - I'd stood in the mirror a thousand times I reached into the core of myself to judge how much her feelings had really felt like my own, and had reached the same conclusion every single time.

So why would he think of it that way?

I made a bitter expression, trying not to look angry at him, since I knew that wouldn't help at all. "No, I'm..."

"I know it may be hard to see it that way," Samium said, in his creaking, strained voice, "with the feelings and recollections you have. But still, it was not you. You aren't--" He coughed, his whole body heaving and one of the machines to the side making a pumping noise. "--responsible, for anything before you became as you are. So you haven't done anything to wrong me."

I grit my teeth. Why didn't he understand? Why wouldn't even he judge me, the one person who knew the whole truth?

Guilt and unresolved grief split my chest like ice.

"You're wrong," I blurted out, digging my nails into the cushion of the chair.

"I understand how you feel," Samium told me, his tone wretchedly soothing. "But it's the only way you can think about these sorts of things..." He took a deep breath, looking like he was trying, almost in vain, to smile. "Trust me. I have a great deal of experience, with this sort of affair."

Somehow, the words sounded almost smug. Like he was casually dismissing everything I'd gone through without even properly thinking about it. I found myself getting angry with him.

Coward, I thought. Say it! Say what you know is true! Even if it hurts you, too!

"You're wrong," I said again. "It's... It's..."

But my words trailed off to a whisper. This wasn't about me, and what I did or didn't deserve. It was about Utsushikome, and saving her. I couldn't afford to derail that by getting into an argument with Samium.

"...never mind," I said. "I just, uh... Just get to the point..."

He looked at me strangely, then nodded, shifting a little. His face seemed to grow more serious.

"I know this is saying the obvious," I told him, "but we... I shouldn't have done this. Twelve years ago, I-- I shouldn't have done it."

"Ah." He nodded again. "You have regrets?"

Again, his tone - the way he was acting like we were discussing something so ordinary,refusing to give the situation the gravitas it deserved, and putting my feelings first as if that was remotely what mattered - stung at me. "Yes."

"I see..." he said sadly. He seemed unsure what to say for a moment. "Are you... Unhappy? Or do you mean--"

"I mean that it shouldn't have happened!" I finally snapped.

I took a sharp breath, instantly regretting the outburst. My face flushed, and Samium seemed a little taken aback. His eyes widened, and he coughed a little, seeming mildly distressed.

Gods above, a voice within me said. At this rate, you'll kill him before you even get the answer. Don't try to make him feel bad, you idiot. What are you doing?

"I-I'm sorry," I stammered quickly. "I didn't mean to shout..."

Fortunately, Samium quickly recovered, holding a hand up slightly as the coughing died down. "It's alright," he said empathetically. "It's alright..."

Maybe it was just my imagination, but when he looked at me again, it felt like there was something new in his eyes. It was a kind of resigned, paternal sadness; the sort of expression you'd give to your child on the day they were insisting on going off to fight in a pointless war. Or maybe more like the permanent dropping of a cherished pretense. Like having to tell them they're adopted, or that nymphs aren't real.

It made me even more uncomfortable, so I looked away sharply.

"I don't know how this will sound," I said, filling with anxiety as we approached the critical moment, "but the truth is, I've been looking for you for nearly nine years. Because I've been trying to find a way to... To undo this."

"I'm not sure I understand," Samium spoke, cautiously.

"To fix things... To bring her back." My voice cracked, desperation leaking into my tone. My arms pulled inward towards my chest. "What I did to her, to Shi--" I swallowed, looking up at him properly. "To Utsushikome, it was a terrible mistake. An unforgivable one."

That look of sadness on his face deepened. His eyebrows curled into a serious frown.

"I tried everything," I said, the words now spilling out. "I went through assimilation therapy for almost four years, tried all the different official procedures--"

"Why? I thought you..." He blinked a few times, then seemed confused for a moment. It seemed as though I'd surprised him, and now his mind was having to speed up beyond what it was used to in his recent circumstances. "And for four years?It's useless after three. Gods--" He coughed sharply, the machine pumping again. "...two, in most cases. And it's not even intended for--"

"I know! I know!" I interjected.

I didn't need a lecture from him about how it'd been futile. I knew it was most likely going to be futile before I'd even started. But I'd had to try.Just like I had to try this.

No, not just like this,I reminded myself. Because this time, there's a real chance.

"I could only make it work on a handful of her early memories, and it's still... I..." I shook my head. "But you're an Egomancer," I declared desperately. "One of the last real experts in the world. You can do things that Pneumenologists aren't even allowed to talk about, that everyone says are impossible. Y-You did with me once already."

When you say it like that, a cynical part of me noted, it really is pathetic. All these years, all this endless training designed to cultivate your intellect, and in the end all your plan has amounted to is to try crawling back to the one person who elicited real change in your life in the first place.

I swallowed the thought, continuing. "I don't know how it even all works... I looked through old books and papers for years, but only found rudimentary stuff... But there must be something." I looked towards the floor, terrified of seeing something in his face that could crush my hope prematurely. "Some way to, I don't know-- To erase my last 12 years of memories, or even cut away the parts of my pneuma that was implanted or has grown since then... Or I dunno, at least brainwash me into not being able to think any thoughts but what she would think. I don't-- I just want to save her! In any way you can! You're the one who did it in the first place so you should know!"

Even though all I'd done was sit and talk, I found I was out of breath. My heart raced with fear. I held my arms around my chest like I'd crumble to pieces if I dared to let go.

I still wasn't looking up, so I couldn't see Samium's reaction. Some time passed with only the sound of his heavy breathing and the mechanical thrums of the various machines. When he finally spoke, his tone was careful and ponderous.

"...well," he said, the word almost an exhale. "Let's see if I fully understand." He paused for a little longer, smacking his dry lips together beneath his breathing mask. "Your goal... Is to change the nature of your self-perception? Or to forget the experiences you've had since our agreement?"

The muscles of my head and neck stiffened. "My goal is to bring her back!" I declared, without even thinking.

"I see what you're trying to say," Samium said patiently, "But you must understand that, from my perspective, what you're describing--" He cleared his throat sharply in a way that wasn't quite a cough, but still sounded notably uncomfortable. "--is, well, somewhat conceptually incoherent... Rather, there is no 'her' to 'bring back' that does not already exist. What you're talking about is a change in your self-perception."

"W-Whatever you want to call it!" I half-shouted, exasperated. "You know what I mean!"

"I'm not truly sure I do," he replied, his brow furrowed. "Several of your requests... Wouldn't even amount to the same result. It seems as though you're operating on some misunderstandings about the nature of human memory, and especially memory in relation to identity."

I opened my mouth to let out another objection at him stepping around the issue, but then hesitated, unsure of what I was going to say.

Had I been operating under a misconception-- Or rather, wishful thinking? I'd taken it as a given that if I could just excise the memories of my childhood as my old self and those formed since my Induction, then Shiko would be what remained. But would it be, really? The human mind didn't draw any hard distinction between the aspects we commonly considered to define the idea of 'self' and the rest. Personality wasn't just a product of autobiographical memory. Exactly what outcome would I consider sufficient?

I'd been abstracting the situation into something black and white - where there was either 'me' or 'Shiko' - to avoid thinking about how messy the situation really was, and to make sure I didn't find some excuse to let myself off the hook for what I'd done. Idealistically, obviously I wanted things put back exactly how they were, but I knew that wouldn't be possible. Pneuma aside, it wasn't like the tissue of my brain itself could be somehow reset. The Power couldn't touch it.

I struggled to find the words.

"Uh..." I bit my lip sharply, rubbing my eyes. "No, I guess you're right... I do mean self-perception. What's important is that she's the one in control, deep down. I mean, that this-- That her brain sees itself as who it's supposed to be again." I hesitated. "If that makes sense."

I exhaled, frustrated. It didn't feel like it made sense.

I still couldn't look at Samium, but again, he was silent for a few moments. "...may I ask what provoked this change in your attitude...? When we last spoke, I'd thought you were pleased."

"That doesn't matter," I said, not even knowing where to start in terms of explaining. "I told you, I realized it was a mistake. The idea of just going on living her life, like nothing had happened..." My face twisted. "B-Back then, when I contacted you, I felt so miserable and desperate that I was completely delusional. I didn't even see Shiko as a person, just a gateway to my own happiness. I didn't care about her feelings, her agency, her hopes and dreams... I murdered her without even thinking about what I was doing." I tried to raise my head again, managing to look at his legs and torso. "And when it was done, and I did understand, I tried to tell myself I didn't. I denied it and denied it, but... But..."

I trailed off a moment, clenching my jaw. I forced myself to look at Samium, who it turned out wasn't even looking at me at all. His eyes were turned towards the window.

"But I killed her," I finished. "I stole everything from her. Everything I do, in every waking moment, is sick. It's sick for me to be at this conclave under her name. It was sick for me to be talking about her family a minute ago like I have any business with them at all, and even sicker for me to pretend to be one of them-- Their daughter, sister, whatever. It's sick that I'm wearing her clothes, and telling you this in her voice, and making her body sweat right now because of my feelings." I grit my teeth. "It's evil. And I can't-- I can't continue to exist, like this. Pretending it's all somehow okay."

Samium didn't show a strong reaction on his face. He didn't even nod. I was surprised at how calm he seemed now, after having been a little taken aback at me a couple minutes ago.

"...I see. That's... a pity," he said, his tone sorrowful. "To speak truthfully, I have also come to regret my actions, back then. I don't want to trouble you by going into my feelings... But I'd taken some solace in the fact that you, at least, seemed to be content. To know that you've had such a change of heart--"

"My feelings were never what mattered," I interjected, once again growing frustrated. "What matters is her. That's why I'm here."

Yet again, he was so flippant. Acting like no meaningful sin had even been committed, was still being committed even as we spoke, and it was all just some unfortunate past event.

Why did I not blame Samium more for what had happened? Blackmail aside, my plan back then had been predicated on the profound love I'd sensed in him for my grandfather, and thus him also seeing the offer as desirable. And though I assumed he had a few guesses, he'd never so much as even asked why I'd wanted to replace Utsushikome.

I suppose the long years and the fact we'd interacted so little had led me to abstract him in my mind. To see him as less of a person and more of a force of nature. But now, seeing him like this...

Samium sighed softly. "Yes," he said. "I understand."

"So, is there anything you can do?"

"Well," he began, "...fundamentally, the brain is a plastic organ. Certain traits are inherent products of either our anima script or early development, but our memory and especially our self-conception, are--" He coughed again, his eyes watering slightly. "...extremely fluid. You said a moment ago that you managed to achieve some results with assimilation therapy? That you've managed to internalize some of your native pneuma's memories, to the point of feeling an equal attachment to them as your own?"

I frowned. "Yeah... A few."

"You should know..." He groaned slightly, something seeming to pain him slightly. "You should know that, considering your situation, even that much is exceptional. As you requested at the time, I engineered your pneuma to occupy a dominant neurological position, and not to form an empathetic connection with pre-existing memory. That you were able to subvert that, let alone presumably well behind schedule, is..." He took a heavy breath. "...testament to that fluidity, and the limitations of pneumenology and Egomancy. Assimilation therapy was only ever designed to function during the period in which the foreign synaptic makeup has not yet been reflected in the mundane cerebrum."

I frowned. "Y-You mean, I did well? With the treatment?"

He nodded weakly. "Yes. You must have followed the guidelines with considerable determination." He let out a frail laugh. "Though, frankly, the entire concept is a bit of a pseudo-scientific scam, propped up by old hands in the field before the Grand Alliance regulated it to death... I'm not convinced it doesn't worsen things more often than it helps."

I didn't know what to say to that.

"In any case, I realize you might not appreciate this... But you are very young," he continued. "Even if you were never a good candidate for that process, your mind... Your memory, your self-conception... Will still shift tremendously in the decades and even centuries to come. In that time, all your memories - both native and foreign - and your sense of identity during various periods with become more distant, and you will be able to choose for yourself what you wish to retain---"

"No!" I ran my hands through my hair, clutching my head with frustration. "I don't mean something vague and personal like that! I mean actually put things back the way they were, with Egomancy or whatever!" I grimaced, again regretting losing my temper. "Or at least as close as you can!"

Again, he paused. He closed his eyes for a moment in thought.

"I feel... That I should tell you a little about Egomancy, conceptually," he said. His tone sounded strained, like trying to tackle these complex concepts was almost too much for him in his current state. "It's important to understand that, fundamentally, the entire discipline is an accident. From our position within the Tower of Asphodel, we aren't normally capable of influencing extra-dimensional objects, even indirectly, outside of means that were devised using iron. The point-particles of our plane are isolated. We're only able to form pneumas at all because the Ironworker's deliberately facilitated the process." He breathed deeply, still not looking me in the eyes. "We're only able to perform Induction at all because it makes no 'changes' in the conventional sense, but rather serves to repair a disruption that is also a product of unnatural human engineering."

"...what are you getting at?"

He frowned. "Pardon, this is a difficult subject to explain to a layperson at the best of times..." He paused for a moment, allowing himself to cough again. "It's understandable, considering how obscure the subject has become... But Egomancy is only truly capable of three things. Firstly, the creation of a novel pneuma, by creating something which imitates the pneumaic nexus and human brain. Secondly, the severance and isolation of a pneuma from the physical body. And finally... The..." Sweat rolled down his brow from the exertion of speaking as he took multiple deep breaths in sequence. "...Induction itself. The affixation of a pneuma to the cavity left by the Ironworkers blockade, and its attunement to an Index. This can, of course, only be done once. Once the cavity is filled, it is filled, irrevocably."

My face paled. I realized what he was saying.

No. No--

"Once a pneuma is already intact, as is the case in your situation," he finished, "there is no real means left to interface with it whatsoever. With the Power, or otherwise."